


Dulce Et Decorum Est

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-12
Updated: 2008-01-12
Packaged: 2019-01-19 11:16:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12409299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Reflection on the war.





	Dulce Et Decorum Est

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

** Dulce Et Decorum Est **

****

**_“The old lie; dulce et decorum est pro patria mori”- Wilfred Owen_ **

****

****

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It wasn’t supposed to be so frightening, and horrifying, and dangerous.

 

Children weren’t supposed to lie broken and battered in the rubble, and parents weren’t supposed to be weeping as they cradled their baby’s head in their arms.

Stray animals weren’t supposed to be wandering with missing limbs, and owls weren’t supposed to be walking rather than flying, due to their broken wings.

 

Houses were supposed to have stood tall and strong, keeping their occupants safe and warm.

Televisions were supposed to be playing favourite programmes, and clocks were supposed to be chiming on the hour.

Families were supposed to be sitting at the table, talking and eating and being together.

 

But all that stretched for miles was the devastation; the destruction that was caused by conflict and by hatred.

 

Staring out from atop the rubble that was once your own home, you see the ruins and you wonder, _how can this be so sweet and right?_

 

Anger swells and you hate the world, hate the war, and hate the man who began this disaster. This wasn’t sweet, and it wasn’t right, and you hate yourself for believing it.

Seeing friends, family, enemies who have fallen, you remember why this seemed to be so easy in the beginning, so simple.

 

_All we have to do is win._

 

It wasn’t so simple anymore.

 

And for the last time, you utter the words that had once inspired you; _“Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.”_


End file.
